Surveillance
by Neptune47
Summary: I’ve been watching you for weeks. Gambit needs information about the abduction of his father, and he’s found a way to get it. But in watching the Rogue, he begins to feel something he’s never felt before: sympathy. Spoilers: Cajun Spice.
1. Chapter 1

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Surveillance

By Neptune

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Summary: "I've been watching you for weeks." Gambit needs information about the abduction of his father, and he's found a way to get it. But in watching the Rogue, he begins to feel something he's never felt before: sympathy. Spoilers: "Cajun Spice."

***

He'd pressed himself against the brick wall, extending his bo-staff with the flick of his right wrist. After weeks of surveillance, he'd chosen to make his play here. Every morning at 8:17, his target passed this alley with a consistency he could set his (stolen) watch to. 

He ran the game plan through his head one more time. Kidnapping wasn't something he actively did, but it closely resembled his greatest talent: thievery. Stealing money, stealing a person, it all ran in the same vein.

He looked at the digital clock on his wrist. 8:17. As if on cue, he heard the dragging of her shoes against the concrete. So predictable. And conspicuous. She'd make a lousy thief, he decided. He inched closer to the street, but didn't overstep the diagonal of the shadow created by the wall. He'd be able to grab her easily, and she wouldn't even see it coming.

The shuffling grew progressively louder, and a black and white shoe came into his view. Game time. He extended his hand, ready to grab the purple of her arm, but suddenly jerked it back. He turned his head and allowed his well-trained ear to re-analyze the situation. There were footsteps, heavier than hers, about ten feet behind. _Damn._

He edged back into the shadows, eyebrows drawn in frustration. She cleared his alcove, successfully blowing his window of opportunity. A few seconds later, another figure passed in and out of his view, someone he recognized easily. _Nightcrawler._ The surrogate brother, and the cause of most of her guilt issues for the past months.

He heard their muffled conversation—the most they'd said to each other in weeks, he noted. It trailed off quickly, and the footsteps diverged. Her shuffling grew louder again, and he realized that she was backtracking. The teleporter had thrown his schedule off by a few minutes, but it was no matter, his plan was still salvageable. Switching to the opposite wall, he waited and listened. This time, when the purple sleeve swung into view, he grabbed it.

***

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Five months prior…

The screen light up with wild Technicolor swirls, and his former employer disappeared in a flash of light. He frowned as his teammate continued to laugh. "I'm putting that on a continuous loop," the Australian said, dramatically wiping his eyes.

His other partner, Colossus, who stood silently next to him, didn't seem find the video clip as humorous. "This is not amusing."

"Aw, come on now. Don't be such a stiff." Pyro laughed again at his own joke. "Get it? Stiff? You're made of steel."

The big Russian kept his lips in a thin line. "You are a lunatic."

"No need for name calling, mate." He pressed a few buttons and the clip began to play again. "Now lets just watch ole' Bucket Head get axed again. Gambit, get the popcorn, will ya'."

Gambit didn't move from his position, arms folded, weight shifted back on his right leg, but rolled his eyes. Pyro was good for a laugh, he'd give him that, but he'd always questioned Magneto's decision to hire someone so a mentally unstable. 

Colossus, he knew, felt the same way. "Shut that off."

"Aw, c'mon mate, I woulda' thought you'd _love_ this. He was blackmailin' ya', after all. The old geezers gettin' what he deserves."

The screen shone again, and Magneto's screams were muffled by Pyro's laughter. Colossus stepped forward, and slammed his steeled first down on the control panel. It crackled and sparked before winking the monitors off.

"Hey, what'dja go an' do that for?"

Colossus didn't answer. He turned his back on the computer station and headed to the monitor room exit.

"Don't turn your back on me, ya' bloody Russie," Pyro said, raising his flame-throwers. "Do ya' know how long that'll take ta' fix?" 

"It doesn't concern me anymore," Colossus said over his shoulder. "Magneto is dead. There is no reason for me to be here."

Gambit saw the blowtorches in Pyro's hands ignite, and decided it was time to intervene. "Easy there," he coaxed, grabbing St. John's forearm. "Torchin' the place ain't gonna' help."

"Oh, I think it'll help my mood plenty," Pyro told him, glowering at the retreating back of the Russian. "Who does he think he is, anyway? I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired of his wounded puppy dog routine."

More like wounded army tank. "Let it go. He's got reason t'be upset."

Pyro frowned. "I neva' pegged ya' for the sympathetic type, Gambit."

Now it was Gambit's turn to frown. "I'm not. But with Magneto gone, there's probably no way he'll be able to find his family now. And even I know to cut a guy some slack under those circumstances. Especially if he's built like a bulldozer."

"Well, we've all got problems," Pyro said, but turned off his flame-throwers none-the-less. He turned back to the console, beginning repairs, giggling inanely as he did so.

***

With Colossus gone, and Sabertooth MIA, Remy's only company in the Acolyte base became St. John Allerdyce. So it wasn't very surprising when he took off on a cigarette run one night, and never went back to the snowy hideout.

Needing to get out of the northern cold, he collected his earnings and made plans to travel back south. Good ole' Louisiana was calling his name. He'd left the place to break ties with Jean-Luc, but he did have other contacts, other family, besides his conniving father. On a whim, he decided to call up his adoptive brother Henri, announce his return home to at least one person.

His brother sounded less then enthusiastic to hear from him, however, informing him of the recent raid on the Thieves by the Rippers, and the kidnapping of their father. Despite his conflicts with Jean-Luc, Remy still had a sense of loyalty to his Guild. He had to take care of this, for the sake of his house's honor, and his own.

"Yo' a fool, Remy," his brother had berated him when he told him of his intentions. "This ain't gon' work."

"You just let me handle that, Henri. I've got ways of finding the Rippers' hideout."

His brother laughed mirthlessly. "I ain't talkin' about that. I mean he ain't never gon' respect you. You ain't gon' save him and suddenly become his son. Yo' just a weapon to him, Remy. A tool."

Gambit frowned, said a quick good bye, and then hung up the phone. Canceling his train ticket, he made his way to the small suburban part of New York that housed the one person who had what he needed.

Henri's words went with him to Bayville.

***

For a school, it had a lot of security. Keeping tabs on the girl had been hard while she was on the grounds. Fortunately for him, she and her do-gooder friends tended to get into a lot of trouble outside the Xavier Institute. Always trying to right some evil. He didn't know how anyone could stand to live so righteously. But she seemed to have no qualms with playing hero for a city that didn't appreciate her efforts. He'd have quit a long time ago if he'd been in her place. 

He'd tailed her for over two weeks, which wasn't as laborious has he'd thought it would be, mainly because she was a looker. Tall and toned with legs that could make a guy weak-kneed. Seemed to work on the X-team leader. Gambit had watched him fall all over himself around the girl, exhibiting a definite lack of finesse. One toss of her shinny red hair, and he'd be on her like a leech. It was like watching the Special Olympics for dating.

Taste in men aside, she was very good at what she did. She could hold her own in battle, which he respected. It also made him nervous. If it came down to just hand to hand combat, he could easily take her. Her telekinesis was another matter entirely. It was hard to fight someone who could toss you aside like a rag doll from twenty feet away. And a surprise attack was out of the question, thanks to her telepathy. He appreciated the irony; the power he needed her for was also what prevented him from getting her.

He had to find a way, however. Time was running out and he needed to get her to New Orleans. A solution presented itself in the most unlikely form.

While trying to thwart a bank robbery, a team of three X-Men had been discharged, one of them being Jean Grey. As the armed gunmen drove away from the crime scene, their car skidded on some ice created by the second member of the X-Team. The gunmen attempted to flee, but Jean Grey effectively clobbered them by bombarding them with flying debris before depositing two of the men in a dumpster.

Iceman was blasting the remaining muggers with icicles, but his approach was sloppy, and he left his large breaches in his perimeter. Gambit saw a wayward man raise his gun, preparing to blow a hole through the back of the boy's head. Before he could pull the trigger, however, the attacker's eyes rolled to the back of his head, he convulsed, and then dropped unconscious to the pavement. The third member of the team stood behind the fallen gunman, bare palm outstretched, wincing slightly.

"Thanks Rogue," the ice boy told her.

"Just watch your back next time," she hissed at him, replacing her glove and keeping her frown.

Problem solved. Gambit smiled.

***

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To Be Continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I really should steal Evo from WB and Marvel since they are retarded and didn't renew this excellent show for another season. But stealing is illegal. So is copyright infringement. That means I don't own the show, and made no money off this story.

AN: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed for the encouraging feedback! I really appreciate it--y'all rock. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Secondly, I must apologize for the long wait for this chapter (and all my other stories). I have no excuses really, except a combination of work, life and laziness. And an unhealthy addiction to Naruto. Oh well, I'm trying to get back on track, I swear! But in the mean time, I hope you enjoy this conclusion. It's nothing too deep, because Gambit kept insisting that I keep him away from too much angst. How can you argue with the Ragin' Cajun? Maybe I'll sucker him next time.

And remember, reviews are a girl's best friend.

Surveillance (2/2)

By Neptune

* * *

His focus shifted away from the red head, to the smaller, angrier spitfire. Rogue. The name was appropriate. She'd be easier to capture, since her powers required touch to work. He could easily avoid skin contact with her. Her fighting skills were good, but his were better. If she wanted to tussle, he could take her out in his sleep.

All he needed now was to formulate a plan. The telepathy and telekinesis being out of the picture made his job easier, but there was still the matter of school security. And the fact that the X-Men traveled in a pack. He continued watching, waiting for his window of opportunity.

* * *

She walked home from school everyday, sometimes alone, sometimes with the hyperactive brunette Shadowcat. The smaller girl would rattle on and on about her day, the mundane gossip of the school, and her annoyance at a boy named Lance Alvers. Rogue wouldn't contribute to the conversation, and when Kitty Pryde tried getting her to speak, she was met with an awkward silence. 

The days Rogue walked alone, she would stop at the small grassy outcropping right before the mansion, and sit against the same oak tree. Most days, she would pull out a black and white speckled composition book and scribble in it. Most likely a journal--the tortured and misunderstood ones usually kept a diary for dramatic effect.

He'd considered just grabbing her right there, but the proximity to the Institute made him wary. Xavier would easily sense her distress, and the X-Men would be on him in a second. And while he could easily take them all, he wanted to avoid a direct confrontation if possible.

She seemed to have the same idea as far as contact with the X-Men was concerned. In the first week of observation, she interacted with very few of her teammates. Wolverine had tried to talk to her a few times--the obvious soft-spot the big man had for the girl amused Gambit to no end--but she didn't seem very interested in what he had to say.

The only person she seemed slightly inclined to talk to was the blue teleporter. He, however, didn't want to have anything to do with her. During one of her sittings under the oak, Nightcrawler had accidentally teleported to a branch above her. The wood hadn't supported his weight, and he'd plummeted right onto her lap, winding them both. Her face had been angry at first, but soon softened when she realized who'd dropped in on her unexpectedly.

The boy's expression had hardened when heard her voice, and he quickly pulled himself up, muttering an apology and something about a training session. She stood too, trying to say more to him, but he'd _bamfed_ away before she could get the words out. She'd stood there, mouth open for a few minutes, before opening her book bag roughly and tossing her notebook into it and heading for the manor.

He frowned at her retreating back.

* * *

It didn't take him long to find out what the tension between the two was. Their mother, Mystique. Causing trouble even from beyond the grave. And Rogue had been the person to put her there. He guessed this was part of the reason she kept herself so isolated; the guilt was driving her insane. He saw it on her face, in her eyes. There was so much anger, so much resentment, so much sadness. Few of her teammates seemed to understand the torture she was going through. Those who did, didn't know what to do about it. He supposed it was because they didn't know what it was like, having a parent who saw you as a weapon, not a child. As far as he was concerned, she'd hadn't done anything wrong. There'd been plenty of times when all he wanted to do was toss Jean-Luc off the nearest cliff. Sure, when he was younger he'd done anything he could to make his father proud of him. Scamming, stealing, fighting-- it was the least he could do for the man who'd taken him in. It wasn't till later that he'd realized his surrogate hadn't taken him in out of sympathy. Remy was a tool that Jean-Luc had used to his advantage for years. He'd fallen easily into his father's mind games, and he was in so deep that there was no clear path out.   
  
So in his fury, he'd tried to branch out of his family. He'd done freelance work, first anonymously, then once he'd gotten a little more confident, under his own name. He left his home, making pubs and clubs his new life. But no matter how far he got, he could still feel the tug of Jean-Luc's leash. Whenever his father called him back, he couldn't help but comply. It made him sick. It made him furious. It made him rebel against everything else to compensate for his one weakness. 

When Magneto offered him the chance to spit in the face of the world, he'd jumped at it (the fact that the pay was good was an added bonus). It gave him more freedom, and it took him away from everything that he hated in Louisiana. And while Magneto had been "the boss," Remy had felt more like his own man with the Acolytes than he ever had before. He was fighting because he chose to, not because he had to.

But even though his situation with Magneto had been comfortable, he kept himself distant and flighty. It was his insurance that he wouldn't be trapped again, like he had been before. Things with the Master of Magnetism had fallen apart, but it didn't matter much to him. He'd taken what he needed from the opportunity, and had no strong attachments. The world wasn't going to do anyone any favors; luck took you no where without independence and strength. And now he had that power. He'd do whatever he needed to make sure he stayed on top, even if it meant knocking a few wayward mutants and humans down along the way.

Even if it meant using her.  
  
_Like you were used._

He knocked that thought out of his head. But he couldn't knock the uneasiness out of his stomach.

* * *

It had been five weeks now since his father's capture, and time was running out. He'd upped his surveillance, shadowing her everywhere she went. He'd even stayed during her therapy sessions with the professor--quite a large risk. Surprisingly enough, the telepath hadn't detected his presence. He made a note to figure out why later.

Rogue's sessions with the professor were conducted outside in the gazebo outcropping. It was the scene of the crime, and Gambit wasn't sure if Xavier was smart or stupid for forcing her to be in the place where she killed her mother. Either way, she wasn't making much progress. After one failed session, she remained at the gazebo after the professor had left, looking out beyond the cliff. Her grip on the railing was so tight that her bared knuckles had whitened.

Then suddenly, she had dropped her arms and thrown her head back. Her throaty voice cut into the air, echoing against the rocks and trees with two simple words. "I'm sorry!"

It had taken him by surprise, as had the fact that she was crying. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as she bowed her head and her shoulders began to shake miserably. He should have left, he knew. He'd done enough reconnaissance for the day, and staying further would jeopardize his operation.

But he stayed and watched the tears roll off her shadowed face and splash against the railing. He watched her torture herself over a mother who'd barely cared about her, friends who didn't understand her, teachers who couldn't help her, and guilt that would always haunt her. His lips thinned, and he found himself frowning at the tension in his muscles. He'd seen girls cry before. He'd made girls cry before. It had never mattered to him before, and it certainly didn't matter now.

She had slowly pulled her leather gloves back on, wiping roughly at her eyes. Her face was obscured by the shadows of her hair as she ran back for the mansion. He stared blankly at the trail she'd made on the evening grass.

It doesn't matter, he'd reiterated to himself, closing his eyes and looking away from the now empty field. He'd never told a less believable lie.

* * *

_Now_…

She'd barely gotten the protest out of her lips before the gas knocked her unconscious. She collapsed against him, and he caught her with his left arm, guiding her gently to the cement. He'd swiped a bike earlier-- their transportation to the train station, and needed to get her there unnoticed.

Pulling his trench coat off his shoulder, he wrapped it around her smaller body. That would be able to hide the laxness of her frame while they were on the motorcycle. Retracting his bo-staff and fastening it to his side, he gathered her up, preparing to throw her over his shoulder. Her head lolled against his chest as he picked her up, and he stopped, looking down at the girl in his arms. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyelashes rested lightly against each other. It was the most at peace he seen her in...ever. He had to admit that she was quite attractive, in an unconventional sort of way. It was more girls weren't very interesting.

Readjusting her weight, he decided to keep her in her cradled position. She seemed comfortable like that, and it was the least he could do for knocking her out.

He shook his head at himself. Henri's words came back to him. _Yo' a fool, Remy. _But this time, they seemed to be talking about something else too.

"Maybe you're right, Henri," he said, casting a quick glance at Rogue again. "Maybe I'll always be a fool."

But maybe the end result of all this would be worth his foolishness. Her white hair bounced lightly against her forehead. He found himself hoping it would be. 

And who knew, perhaps he'd even grab some gumbo with her later. He smiled. Yeah, this would be very interesting…

* * *

THE END 


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